


After the Longest Day of His Life

by MickyRC



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Dancing, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Lesley and Maud are the sweetest couple and I will not take criticism on that, True Love, if you really squint, immediately post canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:14:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25647883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MickyRC/pseuds/MickyRC
Summary: Sometimes love is loud, and dramatic, and fiery. Sometimes it’s so worn in you could walk through it barefoot in absolute comfort.orAfter delivering the most exhausting packages of his life, Lesley comes home.
Relationships: Lesley | International Express Man/Maud
Comments: 14
Kudos: 59
Collections: SOSH - Guess the Author #3 "Dancing"





	After the Longest Day of His Life

**Author's Note:**

> For the Soft Omens Snuggle House server's guess the author game. This round's prompt: dancing!

The door creaked as it opened. It always did, and Lesley always said he was gonna look at it that weekend, on his precious Sunday day off. It never seemed to happen. There were better things to do on Sundays.

He hung his hat by the door, took off his boots, dropped the keys to the delivery truck on the table. It was all routine. Perfect habit.

The logo stitched onto his cap caught his eye. He straightened it. Twenty years it had hung there, or on similar hooks by similar doors in similar flats. Today, it bothered him. He noticed a dent in the brim, a little dip that hadn’t been there that morning, though when he tried to think where it’d come from he just got deja vu and a faint headache.

“Love?” Lesley heard the sofa groan in the sitting room behind him. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” he replied. He gave the hat a last look, then made himself turn around. Maud was leaning around the back of the couch, wine glass in hand, watching him with a little frown. The television lit up the side of her face in cool blue. It reminded Lesley of when they were younger, and used to sneak out to empty fields in the middle of the night and stare up at the stars, the moon their only light home. The moon, and each other.

Sod the hat, Lesley decided. Sod the hat, sod the headache, sod whatever the day had done to him. He was home now.

“C’mere.” He held a hand over the sofa.

“You c’mere,” Maud retorted, kicking a throw pillow aside to make room. “I’m sat down already, you’re not getting me up again.”

“Oh?” Lesley grinned. Maud groaned. There was a challenge, now. One Lesley knew he could win. He’d wooed her once, after all.

Their battered CD player sat on the corner of the kitchen counter. Every other player of that model had lived the past five years smothered in dust. Not this one. Lesley pressed play, and Presley began crooning smoothly through the flat. A mutual guilty pleasure neither of them felt guilty about by now. Certainly not with each other.

Maud pouted at him. “That’s not fair,” she complained, but she didn’t resist as he pulled her off the sofa and into his arms.

“Strategical tactics,” he retorted. Maud huffed and laid her head on his shoulder.

They stayed in each other's arms until the CD ran out. By then, Lesley had forgotten the dent in his hat. He’d forgotten everything about the day, except for Maud saying _I love you_ before he’d left that morning, and Maud’s hands warm on his back while they danced. And Maud saying _I love you_ before they fell asleep, safe and sound in bed, spooned up against each other just as they were meant to be.


End file.
